


Welcome to Sendai Café!

by pretense



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Platonic Kissing, soft and calming drabbles for all, with a lil drama just to spice up the holiday season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8906884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense
Summary: The ambiance is crafted to give people space to unwind, with sweet strong smells and friendly faces. It doesn't always follow through. Especially with this lot.





	1. Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> this won't really be going anywhere so please don't expect... mostly gonna be a drabble dump... it revolves around the holiday season tho so... happy holidays~!

The smell of coffee wafts in the air, like the warm hands of a lover caressing his cheeks, luring him onwards like siren song. A welcoming glow streams from the shop’s windows, gold against the winter gray sky. Sendai Café reads the sign above the door, nothing fancy, nothing personal, Kenjiro decides it’s good enough.

He fixes his windswept hair and pulls the door open, a jingle of chimes greeting him together with a chirpy voice that says, “Welcome to Sendai Café!”

The decor is purple and bronze and cream, with couches along the walls and cast-iron garden tables that carry miniature potted plants on top. It’s toasty, a refuge from the cold outside, and the display of pastries beside the counter beckons him. The menu is framed ornately above, listing Hot and Cold drinks separately plus another featuring Today’s Special: raspberry danish and espresso combo. More importantly, there’s not an empty seat in sight.

_Well_ , Kenjiro thinks as he queues, dragging his luggage behind him. _This is the first coffee shop within range of the train station, of course it’s gonna be packed_.

Despite that, the line moves fairly quickly. Kenjiro decides to get the day’s special just to save himself the effort of overthinking when he finds something else on display.

Atop the pastry shelf stands two journals, one purple and one white, with the pages parted invitingly. Kenjiro picks one up, noting the wire that anchors it to the stand. There’s a monthly calendar and a weekly planner, with holidays marked and artworks parting each month. It’s a good weight, not too bulky, and the design is far from shabby, too. The display boasts of a promo, now that Kenjiro looks at it more closely: complete twelve stickers and get the planner for free. Must be why there’s so many people.

He puts the sample back on display when the queue moves, deciding he might as well get something out of his two-week break.

 

“Danish and espresso for Kenjiro!”

He passes a group of giggling teens on his way to the counter, carefully maneuvering his luggage so he doesn't accidentally hit anyone. The guy behind the counter doesn't look much older than Kenjiro, light haired with dark tips like a burnt candle wick. He looks grumpy. Kenjiro thinks he would be, too, if he had all that coffee passing through his hands, unable to take a sip. He retrieves his order with a quick thanks, intending to step out and take the next bus home.

“Excuse me, you forgot your name tag.”

Kenjiro pauses, turning back to the counter with one brow raised. “Sorry?”

“Here.” The guy lifts his hand, fisted tight like he was holding something within, a gleam in his eyes that Kenjiro hasn't noticed before.

Cautiously, Kenjiro extends a palm to accept… a white packet. On closer inspection, he finds it labeled ‘ _Sugar_ ’. This isn’t his name tag, it’s not even remotely--

_Oh._

He looks up and the barista is smirking at him.

Kenjiro fires up his most intimidating glare. He just spent four hours on the train next to rowdy triplets and it's a half hour more (December traffic permitting) before he gets home. He isn't in the best mood to entertain sleazy baristas. “Eat shit and maybe your stupid hair will even out, you stale eggnog.”

The entire shop goes quiet at the outburst and Kenjiro stalks right out the door, much aware of the eyes boring into his back. His luggage thumps alarmingly down the pathway but Kenjiro forges on.

 

“Bwahahahah! You got _owned_ , Semisemi!”

Satori slaps his fellow barista’s back, dispersing the awkward silence. “Not as slick as we used to be, huh?”

“Shut up. And _stop_ that, damn it, that hurts.” Eita pulls the offending hand off him. “I still got more numbers than you.”

“For now~” Satori happily sets down a tray of crepe cakes and lattes with snowflakes drawn on the foam. “Orders up for Kanoka~”

“Here!”

  
When Eita passes Satori again, the redhead waves a napkin with a scribbled number in his face.


	2. Red Velvet

“Welcome to  Sendai Café!!”

It’s cloudy outside just like yesterday but the shop is warm as ever. Reon loosens his scarf as he heads up to the counter, mid-mornings are one of the quieter spots in the usually bustling café.

“Tsutomu, how are you doing?” Since there’s no one else in line, Reon figures there’s no harm in making idle talk.

“Perfectly fine, thank you for asking!” Tsutomu’s features all but sparkle at his enthusiastic response. “Jin has left me in charge of the cash register today!”

“Just you?”

“Yes!”

“Then it means he finds you very trustworthy,” Reon smiles back. “Good work.”

“A-Ah thank you!” Tsutomu bows, his grin wide enough to split his face. “What would you have today, Reon? Hayato is baking a new batch of cookies in the kitchen, if you can wait for them.”

The pastry shelf is looking pretty empty, though Reon knows it’s because of the morning rush that has just ended. Looking at the tags in front of each tray give him an idea of what Hayato may be restocking on. “Do you think he has red velvet cookies back there?”

“I’ll go check.” Tsutomu is gone before Reon can tell him there’s no need to go through the trouble.

“He’s eager to please, that kid.”

Eita approaches with a stainless shaker cup, mixing up whatever is inside with quick jerks and long tosses from one hand to the other.

“That’s not really bad, is it?” Reon asks.

Eita shrugs noncommittally. “Just don’t stick me in a room with him and Satori at the same time and I’ll be peachy.”

Imagining the café’s other loudmouth face to face with the excitable Tsutomu gets Reon chuckling. “So, what’s new with you?”

“Making a new drink. Lost a bet to Satori. The usual.”

“New drink?”

“Hazelnut, skim milk, a dash of cinnamon–”

“Oh, hell no.” A new voice joins them, combined with the heavenly scent of fresh-baked goods. This enrapturing fragrance, however, is accompanied by a severe tone of voice. “No cinnamon.”

“Why not?” Reon makes space for the chef to restock the display case.

“I don’t like it,” Hayato says simply.

“What’s wrong with cinnamon?” Tsutomu wonders, tailing Hayato out the kitchen with a second tray on-hand.

“It’s his stupid aesthetic,” Eita answers for their chef. “Remember how he waged war against  _ matcha _ because it was ‘too mainstream’ that one time?”

Straightening up, Hayato proudly declares, “The market was oversaturated, someone had to take a stand.”

“S-So cool!”

“It’s not  _ that _ cool, Tsutomu.”

“Ah, Reon, sorry but we don’t have red velvet today.” Hayato’s tone changes completely, looking all professional as he regards their customer. “Maybe tomorrow if you can swing by again? It’s for your mom, right?”

It’s no secret that Reon’s mother adores Hayato’s red velvet cookies. Reon never fails to get them for her whenever a special occasion comes up. “My mom’s having a potluck with her friends and asked me to get snacks.”

At seeing Hayato’s disappointed face, Reon claps his shoulder, smiling wide. “It’s fine, Hayato. I’m sure they’ll love whatever you have in store. Those are cashew cookies, right?”

“Cashew and caramel. With mini marshmallows.”

“I’ll take half a dozen,” Reon nods to Tsutomu who quickly goes back to his station to punch it in. “And… hm… What do you recommend, chef?”

“I’ve got a tray of white chocolate cookies cooling in the back if you want them.”

“That’d be great.”

Reon adds a large cappuccino to his order that Eita works on immediately. He promises to taste-test Eita’s new mix once the barista has perfected it. Hayato comes back out with the cookies all wrapped up nicely.

“Are you collecting stickers for the planner?” Tsutomu asks.

“Sure am, let me get my coupon.” Reon presents a card already half-filled out. Tsutomu, predictably, gushes over it.

“This is your seventh sticker, then. Only five more to go!”

Gathering his things, Reon bids goodbye to the crew. A couple of new patrons have lined up behind him and it wouldn’t do to keep them waiting.

The door opens just as Reon reaches for it and he’s greeted by a shock of red hair and curious eyes. “Reon! Fancy meeting you here~”

“Hey, Satori.”

“Heading out, already?” Satori tilts his head. “And I just got here, too.”

“Let’s hang out another time,” Reon lifts the box in his hand. “Need to take this to my mom.”

“Ah. In that case, don’t let me hold you back.” Satori sweeps his hand in a grand arc towards the road.

“Thanks, Satori.”

“Wait wait wait! One last thing!”

Reon’s smile is ever-patient, relaxing with a pinch of warmth when Satori promptly pecks him on the lips.

“There!” Satori declares, triumphant. “You take care now!”

“You, too.” Reon waves goodbye.

 

“You’re early.” Eita’s eyes slip shut for the briefest moment when Satori kisses him in greeting. Satori kisses everyone, leaving a peppermint after-taste that Eita can’t really complain about.

“The final boss was a hack,” Satori explains, squeezing Tsutomu’s flushed cheeks with a spindly hand and kissing him quickly. “I finished the game an hour ahead of schedule. It’s in my bag if anyone wants to borrow.”

“Maybe later,” Eita says. “Go get changed before Jin comes around and scolds you.”

“Yeah, sure~” Satori strides towards the back rooms, ita-bag clinking cheerfully off his back, various animanga characters peeking out of the heart-shaped window.


	3. A Hint of Mint

Jin nudges Satori, telling the barista off with just a stern look. _Back to work_ , he mouths.

Satori makes a pained face, observant gaze straying to a corner table where a girl’s sniffling is just audible above the din of their other customers.

“One vanilla latte,” Jin hands the receipt to Satori. “Make it cute.”

The line of customers doesn’t look like it’s growing any shorter no matter how many drinks Satori makes.

Satori lets out a little huff and heads back to his work station. He has been doing latte art even before he got hired for it but he doesn’t exactly have the mood for ‘cute’ when there’s someone crying in the shop. The guy she’s with isn’t even doing anything to console her. Satori guesses he was the one who initiated the break up. No one would be bawling like that a day before New Year’s Eve unless they lost someone precious. For that matter, who even breaks up with their girlfriend before New Year’s?!

Ahh, Satori can’t afford to be distracted right now. The foam has settled, a ready canvas for his newest artwork. What to draw, what to draw… Jin said ‘cute’ so… Satori snaps his fingers when inspiration strikes. A fluffy poodle! That’s perfect.

 

“Two coffees for Keishin!”

A blond man comes up to the counter, presenting his receipt. Eita can smell cigarette smoke off him and does his best to hide his distaste. He’s been waning off the vice for three months now.

“Hey.” Keishin is leaning on the counter, his frown pulling on a lip piercing. “Do something about that.” He jerks his head towards the couple in the corner where the girl is outright bawling now.

Eita is not the least bit qualified to deal with that kind of thing but he can see that it’s starting to grate on their other customers as well.

He looks to Jin for permission and gets it almost immediately; seems his manager’s hearing is sharp as ever when it comes to customer complaints. Eita stuffs a handful of tissues into his apron, walking out from behind the counter with a purpose in his steps.

Other patrons pointedly stare away from the drama, giving Eita a clear path towards the corner table. Beneath the girl’s crying, he can hear quiet murmurs, her boyfriend pleading even with his head bowed down. Mentally, Eita mocks the lame attempt at consolation, it’s no use when the apologies are drowned out by the crying itself. Eita is halfway to the table when two things happen in quick succession:

First, the girl gets up, grabs her bag and goes. She shoulders past Eita and another customer, too choked up with tears to apologize, heading straight out the door.

Second, Eita’s attempt to follow her is stalled when he recognizes the man behind him, a similar victim of the girl’s hasty exit. Big brown eyes blink back at him beneath that assymetrical fringe; a decidedly un-cute expression on what is an otherwise aesthetically-pleasing face.

Eita always did fall so easily, and he’s surprisingly not entirely turned off by the kid’s spitfire quip from back then.

Someone clears their throat, breaking the anxious hush that fills the shop before Eita can even open his mouth. It’s a sound that gets Eita straightening up, knowing that Jin is watching closely, usually a precursor to some lecture or another. So he nods a quick apology to the Unfriendly Cutie and gets back on track. Eita was supposed to console the crying girl but now that she’s gone and left her (ex-)boyfriend in distress, Eita figures his sympathies ought to go the guy as well.

“Uh hey.” Admittedly not Eita’s best opening line but it works well with a subdued tone of voice that’s just the right side of concerned.

Red-rimmed eyes turn towards him, watery and fearful. “S-sorry,” he croaks, hands fisted against his knees, creasing up the fabric of his… skirt.

Huh.

Well there’s something Eita doesn’t see everyday. He realizes he might’ve been staring too long when the guy starts shifting uncomfortably, a fresh well of tears collecting at the corner of heavily-lidded eyes.

Eita always did fall so easily.

“...didn’t mean… to cause a scene… _hic_ I’m sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eita assures the guy, putting on his best smile. “You… Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?” The guy blinks at him. “I’m Semi, by the way.” He adds, hoping to come off as friendly.

A few more blinks.

God, those eyelashes are pretty, tears like dewdrops glistening. Eita almost misses the other guy’s name, busy thinking how much he’d like to wipe away those tears, cup that adorably ruddy face with both hands.

“Kawanishi.” The guy says as if tired, peeling the soggy tissue sticking to his latte cup and making a tight gurgling sound when it rips.

“Here.”

A handful of perfectly dry sheets appears in his watery line of vision. Kawanishi takes the offered tissues with a muttered “Thanks” before unclogging his nose.

It’s not a pretty sight but Eita is plenty sympathetic. “She’ll come around,” he says, knowing zero facts about the situation but not wanting to dwell on the apparent negatives.

Kawanishi looks up, unconvinced. “I’m… not sure I want her to… anymore.” He sets the used tissues aside, fingers threading between the pleats of his skirt, crumpling up the mint-colored fabric in a bid to steel his nerves.

“You don’t?”

A sniffle as Kawanishi shakes his head slightly. “Too much traction… expectations… I can’t compromise and this wasn’t…” He pauses, meeting Eita’s inquisitive eyes, surprised at the clear attention displayed there. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this when you’re on the clock.”

The abrupt delineation has Eita straightening up in his seat, having slouched forward trying to hear Kawanishi’s mumbling explanation. “Actually my manager sent me over,” Eita says. When Kawanishi’s expression pinches with worry, he realizes that the combination of those words rarely result in something good. “N-Not that I was going to kick you out o-or anything!” He quickly remedies, which turns that worried look curious. Eita clears his throat. “Actually, I get off in… twenty minutes? If you… want to talk about it, I mean, I could get you another drink while you wait? Or if you want to get out of here…”

The weather is merciful today, crisp but not too cold, perfect for a winding walk around town.

Kawanishi simply stares at Eita, the extended moment eventually breaks when he wipes at some remaining moisture at the corner of his eyes. “Thanks but I think I’ll be alright.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Eita isn’t entirely convinced but he respects that the guy wants some space. Kawanishi couldn’t be faulted for not wanting to hang out with someone he just met five minutes ago, especially given his distraught emotional state. Eita stands up and makes to leave, but not before imparting one last comfort. “You know, my little sister has a skirt just like that. Hers is pink but that color suits you better.” He smiles, soft. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

 

Kawanishi watches the barista walk away one step at a time, his turbulent thoughts subdued, each breath coming easier than the last.

Eita’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and it crumbles even further when he catches someone staring. Not just any someone, for that matter. He swallows, tries to be a little more sincere as he stops just beside the table. “Anything I can help you with?”

Kenjiro purses his lips, looking away, abashed.

“Oh, perfect timing,” someone else from the table speaks up, gesturing at the empty plates. “Can you clear these up for us?”

“No problem.” Eita stacks the plates on one hand, pulling out a rag from his apron to wipe off the crumbs. The teens sitting together all have the same brown hair, two of them leaning together mashing buttons on their handheld consoles.

“Thank you!” What looks to be the oldest girl smiles, her attention diverting almost immediately to her brother. “So, Kenjiro, where do you want to go after this? We’re meeting mom at the salon by five so...”

Kenjiro glances up at Eita, their eyes meeting for a second before Eita straightens up, tucking the cleaning rag back into his pocket.

Jin is waving a hand, calling him back to his station. Eita heads off with little more than a nod.

 

He’s piled up with orders soon as he gets back, monopolizing his attention that he nearly misses Kawanishi getting up. The flash of a mint-colored skirt has Eita looking up from the coffee press. Kawanishi looks more composed, waiting for Eita to notice before he raises a hand in farewell.

Eita can only hope to see him again, preferably in a better state, soon. 


	4. Secret Menu

Tsutomu watches the clock, counting down the minutes until his shift ends.

It’s New Year’s Day but Sendai Café is still operational, though with minimal staffing. Hayato has prepared enough pastries before he went out for a bit, anticipating less than their usual number of patrons given the occasion. Akakura is in charge of the kitchens in Hayato’s absence, with Yunohama up front at the counter with Tsutomu.

“Hey, Tsutomu, what’s this?”

Yunohama is their barista for the morning shift and he has spent the majority of it making Americanos to-go, their customers eager to get their coffee fix and head on their way. He’s been spending the rest of his time checking, double- and triple-checking their stocks. Short of counting every coffee bean, there’s little to entertain him. That is, until, his discovery.

It’s a tatty little notepad, with torn bits sticking out of the spiral. Coffee stains mar the cover, though that part isn’t entirely surprising.

“You found it!”  Tsutomu practically jumps over, bumping shoulders as he takes the notepad from Yunohama. “Eita has been looking everywhere for this.”

“Can we-?” Tsutomu is already flipping through the pages before Yunohama even finishes his question. Turns out it’s a recipe book, jotted down with blotty ink, the ingredients list modified with many cross-outs and arrows pointing to alternative options. There aren’t any official titles as far as they can decipher, mostly generic-sounding descriptions scribbled at the top of each page -- mocha latte, mocha latte 2, Mint-choco drink (the rest of the name is crossed out by scribbles), soy milk drink. For all that Eita creates mouth-watering concoctions, he’s apparently blase in naming them. If the red and purple notations by the bottom of each page are any indication, Satori and Hayato are the ones to pitch in proper names.

“This is so cool!” Tsutomu holds the notepad with reverence fitting of a holy relic.

“Want to try it out?” Yunohama grins.

“Huh?”

“I think I can do this one,” Yunohama turns a few pages, landing on a peppermint and dark choco mix. “Wanna try it?”

“We can’t waste ingredients,” Tsutomu protests, though Yunohama knows he’s considering it with the way his thumb rubs over the page.

Tsutomu is all about dark chocolate, a fact that’s surprising at first with how hyper he is -- everyone thought he had milk choco running through his veins -- but now Yunohama takes his chance to exploit that.

“It won’t be a waste if you put an order for it,” he continues to grin, conspiring.

Tsutomu glares. “It’s not even on the menu.”

Yunohama’s grin falls. “Look. No one has come in for the last twenty minutes. I’m bored as hell. Let me make you a drink.”

 

The cash register  _ pings _ and Yunohama sets to work, all lethargy shaken off now that he’s found something to do. Tsutomu reads the instructions aloud, prompting Akakura to wander out from the kitchen asking what all the shouting is about.

“We’re trying out a new recipe,” Tsutomu tells him.

Akakura arches an eyebrow. “Is that even allowed?”

“Sure,” Yunohama chirps. “Goshiki paid for a drink, after all.”

Tsutomu fights down an indignant blush, looking down at Akakura (thank the gods for his height) and silently daring him to comment.

“Whatever,” Akakura eventually says, leaning against the counter beside Tsutomu. “Can I at least hang out here? The kitchen is too quiet. It’s creepy.” When no one voiced their objections, he settles in and pulls out his smartphone, opening a gaming app.

The distinct smell of dark chocolate fills the air soon enough, mixed with sugar and milk and peppermint candies that they’ve overstocked from the Christmas season. Yunohama finishes with a flourish, topping the large mug with whipped cream and a sprig of mint. “Tada~”

“Smells good,” Akakura comments, looking up from his game.

“Why thank you~” Yunohama does a little bow. “The real test is its taste, though.” He hands the mug over to Tsutomu whose eyes are sparkling. “It’s scalding hot, let it cool for a while before you drink.”

“I know that,” Tsutomu sticks his tongue out to hide the fact that he was in fact seconds away from gulping it down if not for the warning. It smells so good damn it. “And thanks.”

“No problem.”

Grabbing a stirrer, Tsutomu mixes the whipped cream into the frothy drink, willing it to cool faster. After a minute or two, Tsutomu brings the mug to his lips, cold fingers melting against its warm body. He blows on it before taking a tentative sip, the tip of his tongue burns sensitive to the heat and he pulls back. Licking hips lips, Tsutomu relishes the cool and minty aftertaste. It’s… pretty good, considering. He stirs the drink again to disperse the heat, eager to get a proper taste.

A whistling tune joins the splashing sounds from the sink -- Yunohama cleaning up now that his little experiment is done. He’s feeling pretty good, overall, nothing like making hot drinks on a cold day. They managed to kill 45 minutes and now it’s almost lunch time.

On normal days, they worked through the busy lunch hour, taking turns to catch their break. But today is a holiday. The customers are scarce and there’s only three of them on the clock. Surely the boss would understand if they close off for just one hour. He says as much out loud.

Akakura is quick to agree. “There’s a new barbecue place that opened two blocks over,” he says. “My friend says it’s delicious.”

“But… the Café…” Tsutomu’s brows are scrunched up, a smudge of chocolate on the bow of his twisted lips. “We can’t leave it unattended.”

“Aw come on, there’s no one here!” Yunohama throws a dish rag into the sink. “We can just lock up and head out.”

“It’s still on introductory price, too,” Akakura adds, appealing to the financial consciousness that all three of them (as university students) share; Tsutomu’s bias for dark chocolates aside.

“Still, I don’t think we should go.” Tsutomu fiddles with the stirrer. “Don’t they have delivery?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Loosen up, Tsutomu!” Yunohama jabs. “It’s just us three, no one would mind.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Tsutomu pouts. “We’re left in charge of the Café -- a big responsibility, by the way -- so we can’t just do as we please.”

“And that’s why you got Yuno here cooking you up a secret menu isn’t that right?”

“Hey.” Yunohama knocks the back of his hand against Akakura’s shoulder, chastising. “The drink was my idea. Anyway, if Tsutomu doesn’t want to go, we’ll just buy lunch for him.”

“You’re leaving me alone?!” Betrayal and a bit of panic gleams in onyx eyes, their focus shifting between his co-workers.

“Well, yeah.” Yunohama shrugs. “You won’t budge and I’m getting hungry. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Hell yes we’re going out! Let me just get my coat.” Akakura rushes to the backroom.

“Naw, don’t pout~” Yunohama pokes Tsutomu’s cheek. “Fat chance anyone’s gonna come in, but just in case they do... you just get coffee from the thermos there. Milk is over there.” He points at different sections of his work station. “Syrup’s in the fridge. You can handle this.”

 

The mug of pleasantly warm drink keeps Tsutomu company. Eita’s recipe could use less sugar though. Soft piano music plays overhead, louder now that there’s two less people making noise. A light flurry of snow dances outside the wide windows, civilians passing by in thick jackets and scarves. The weather report said it’s going to be colder as winter peaks but Tsutomu isn’t worried, he’s safe and content in the toasty little coffee shop.

He has just put down his empty mug in the sink when the bells chimed, followed by a gust of arctic air. Tsutomu’s back automatically straightens up and he turns, expecting to find Yunohama and Akakura but instead there’s a huge man looming at the front door.

“W-Welcome to  Sendai Café!”

The man fits his broad frame through the door’s limited opening, not daring to push it even a little further so as to minimize the snowflakes that would be blown in. He pats away the white dust clinging to his sleeves, inspecting the place with a serious look. The gray scarf wrapped around his neck ends in two huge fuschia pompoms. It does nothing to lessen his vaguely threatening air.

“Hello!” Tsutomu waves. “A bit breezy outside, yeah?” He can’t tell if the man nods or if his reply just got muffled by the scarf, but he does come closer. The man lingers at their pastry display before moving to stand directly across the counter. “We’ve got Americanos if you want something hot to drink,” he offers, mentally praying that the guy doesn’t go asking about the other drinks that Tsutomu isn’t confident in making by himself.

“I’ll have to decline,” the man says in a voice that’s deep and smooth. The kind Tsutomu hears when his dad tunes up the radio on Sunday mornings. “I don’t drink coffee.”

Tsutomu blinks. The customer seems to catch on to his confusion (what  _ is _ he doing in a coffee shop if not to get coffee?) and subsequently clears his throat.

“I would like to get a sandwich,” he amends.

“Ah.”

They shuffle over to the display where the man points to a pulled chicken order. Tsutomu offers him their selection of bottled drinks but the man declines, asking for a warm glass of water instead. He pays for his purchase, choosing a seat while Tsutomu heats up the sandwich.

Tsutomu is beyond relieved at this turn out. He serves up the sandwich and glass of water on a tray, sliding the items smoothly on the table top together with a set of utensils wrapped in tissue paper. The man has taken off his coat and scarf, the heavy fabrics draped over the back of his chair. Sitting down, Tsutomu towers over him a bit though it doesn’t diminish his intimidating aura. Tsutomu smiles to hide his trepidation. “Please enjoy your meal~”

“Wait a moment.” More than the subtle command in his tone, it’s the deep amber gaze that holds Tsutomu in place.

“Yes?” If he’s holding up his tray like a defensive shield in front of him, the man doesn’t comment on it. 

“I’ve been told that Satori…” He stops, breath catching just a little but enough to be heard in the relative quiet. “Tendou Satori works at this establishment.”

_ Satori? _ Tsutomu blinks, his stiff countenance deflating.  _ This big scary guy knows Satori? _

“Is he going to come in today?” the man asks, casually as if he was just commenting on the weather.

“Er…” Tsutomu can’t recall if they were allowed to disclose such information. Who even uses the word ‘establishment’ anyway? The man doesn’t seem to have bad intentions but Tsutomu can’t shake the thought that he’s kind of odd. Then again, he claims to be friends with Satori so it wouldn’t be surprising. Wait a second…  _ Tsutomu _ is friends with Satori; does that make  _ him _ odd himself?

Oh no, his thoughts have rambled. And the guy is still waiting for an answer. 

“Well…”

The bell over the front door jingles. Tsutomu’s tangled thoughts are broken, dispelled, as he straightens up to deliver his usual greeting.

“Welcome to--” He stops when he recognizes the figure coming in. “Ah. Soekawa-senpai!”

“Oh, Tsutomu, I saw the counter empty as I passed by and I worried that…“ Jin’s words fade as he realizes that they have a customer. The furrowed brows raise, his mouth agape with unabashed surprise. “ _ Ushijima?  _ Is that you?”

Disbelief rings with every syllable. Tsutomu doesn’t know what’s going on anymore. He looks between his supervisor and the customer, more than a little anxious.

“Hello, Soekawa.” The man called Ushijima has turned in his seat, facing Jin with his greeting.

“What are you doing here?” Jin asks, a tad humored. “I mean, you don’t even drink coffee.”

Tsutomu takes Jin’s approach as his cue to leave, mumbling a quick “I’ll be at the counter if you need anything.” before high-tailing it out of the awkward situation.

“I’m having lunch,” Ushijima says like it’s the most normal thing in the world.


	5. Puddin'

Ushijima eats his lunch, unhurried. Jin has left a while ago, resuming his sidetracked errand once the café is sufficiently staffed again. Ushijima had to politely pretend that he didn’t hear the sermon Jin had unleashed, audible from his table despite the fact that they were talking in the kitchen; Jin has been strict with rules for as long as Ushijima can remember. He did confirm that Satori will be working the afternoon to evening shift, though, and Ushijima is grateful for that.

More people come in once the windy weather calms down, most of them in search of warmth that the cozy café readily offers. They bring cheerful chatter and soon the place is teeming with energy. A second barista takes his position behind the counter just in time to cater to the onslaught of customers. Sadly, it isn’t the man Ushijima is waiting for. This one has light-colored hair, artfully mussed up and tinted dark brown near the tips.

He waits until there’s a lull in the queue to approach the counter again. His sandwich is all gone and he feels conscious about taking up space without having anything on his table. The dark-haired teen who had served him earlier recommends some of their cream-based drinks, apparently having remembered his dislike of coffee mentioned before. Ushijima appreciates that but he finds their tea selection and chooses from it, instead. As he steps aside to await his drink, he finds the next guy staring at him.

Ushijima is used to being stared at. Not to brag, but he has made quite a name for himself in the collegiate volleyball league. One of the most promising players, they call him. He didn’t think he’d be recognized in his hometown, though, far away from the big cities as it is.

The guy has stopped staring when he noticed he’d been caught, a dusting of red at the tip of his ears serve as the only acknowledgment of his actions. He brushes his fringe aside as he consults the menu, taking out his wallet to pay and handing the cashier a coupon as well.

“Passion fruit tea for Ushijima!”

Hearing his order, Ushijima claims it and summarily returns to his table. He has taken two sips of the drink -- it’s nice, fragrant -- when a soft cough calls for his attention. The guy from the counter is standing beside his table, clutching a purple journal in his hands. Ushijima puts his drink down, asking, “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” This time his eyes doesn’t stray, determined to keep Ushijima’s attention. “My name is Kenjiro Shirabu. And you’re Ushijima Wakatoshi, right? The Ace of Tsukuba University?”

“I am.”

Kenjiro inhales sharply. “I’m a huge fan.”

Ushijima considers him, though there isn’t much to assess given that the guy is wrapped up in a puffy jacket.

“I was wondering,” Kenjiro continues when it appears that Ushijima isn’t going to say anything else. “And I would hate to be rude. But would you please sign my journal?” He holds out the item with both hands like an offering.

“I don’t have a pen,” Ushijima says, staring at the artful cover with Sendai Café’s logo stamped at the top right corner.

Kenjiro balks, retracting the journal as he hastily pats down his pockets in search of a pen. “I-I’m sure I have… one… here… Um.”

“Danish and espresso for Kenjiro!”

His whole body turns at the call. Kenjiro’s distress seems to double when he sees who’s at the counter. Turning back to Ushijima, he bows. “Please excuse me for a moment.”

“Hey, sugar,” Eita greets, smirking in in the face of Kenjiro’s livid expression; severe frown aside, his blush is pretty cute.

“Don’t get familiar,” Kenjiro warns, setting his journal on the tray.

“But we _are_ familiar,” Eita replies. “I’ve been seeing you here pretty frequently. You usually come in during my shift, too.”

“Coincidence.” Kenjiro grabs his tray with a huff, fully intending to leave when something catches his eye. “Hey, wait.”

“Yes?” Eita leans his elbow on the counter, wearing a smug smile.

“Let me borrow that pen.” Kenjiro eyes the item hooked on the barista’s breast pocket.

Eita follows his gaze, then he picks up the pen with two fingers, holding it up in the air between them. “This pen?”

“Yes.”

He grins like a Cheshire cat. “And what do I get in return?”

“You get your one selfless act for the day,” Kenjiro says flatly. "Good karma."

“Yeah, that won’t quite cut it.”

Kenjiro squeezes his eyes shut, sighing. “What do you want?”

Eita leans in closer once Kenjiro has opened his eyes again. “Just your number, sugar. Won’t cost you nothing.”

“It would cost me my peace of mind,” Kenjiro grits out.

“Well--”

“Hey, Semi! Quit chatting up the customers and get back here. Orders are piling up!” Yunohama calls from the espresso machine, filling two cups to the brim.

Eita straightens up, craning his neck back to address his coworker. “Right, right. Sorry.” Looking back at Kenjiro, he grins. Eita twirls the pen and moves to put it back to his pocket but at the last second he reaches over, depositing the pen on Kenjiro’s tray. “You better give that back,” he says, then he strides back into the fray.

 

Kenjiro fumes silently but he wills his expression to relax as he weaves through the tables. Ushijima hasn’t moved an inch and Kenjiro thanks heaven that he’s still there. He makes his way to Ushijima’s table in the middle of the room, there’s an empty seat right across him. Kenjiro rights his posture, approaching at a casual pace. “Hello again, Ushijima.”

“Kenjiro Shirabu,” Ushijima replies, tilting his head a little to look up at him.

“I found a pen,” Kenjiro says, cringing mentally at how lame that sounded. Ushijima only continues to stare. He swallows. “And I… Well… Is this seat taken?”

“No.”

More one-word answers. _God damn._ Kenjiro admires Ushijima’s stoicism (his single-minded focus) during games but it becomes the opposite of impressive in everyday situations like this. He’s not about to let that derail him, though. He’s going to get this man’s autograph even if its the last thing he does. Kenjiro puts up a smile. “Great, then, uh, do you mind if I sit with you?”

Ushijima blinks. Like he had somehow _not_ anticipated that request. He looks at the empty chair, then at Kenjiro. “You may sit with me.”

 

It’s the longest thirty minutes of Kenjiro’s life. Ushijima is cordial enough (he signed Kenjiro’s journal without a fuss) but his unchanging expression and short replies are enough to intimidate a lesser man. So Kenjiro makes small talk, much as he hates the concept of it himself, it isn’t every day that one gets to meet their idol.

Ushijima is in town for holiday break, just like him. He will be finishing up his physical education degree this summer and he’s already got offers to play on the national league and some international teams as well. When Kenjiro asks him if he would really leave the country to play volleyball, Ushijima merely looks at the door. That’s another thing, too, that Kenjiro finds irksome in conversations but doesn’t dare mention it to Ushijima’s face.

He’s been looking at door every time the chimes ring, looking down at his cooling tea with something like disappointment afterwards. Kenjiro shrinks a little in his seat when he does that. Ushijima is obviously waiting for someone, possibly a date. It _is_ New Years’ Day.

Kenjiro pretends to look at his e-mail. He has finished his food and his drink, he’s really just stalling at this point, basking in Ushijima’s presence. The journal with Ushijima’s autograph is propped on his lap, Kenjiro would ask to have a photo with him but he feels that’s a little too much. Ushijima has been courteous and it would be best if they part on good terms. He looks up and Ushijima is staring at the window; it’s snowing again. He clears his throat, getting Ushijima’s attention.

“Thank you for having me, Ushijima, but I would have to take my leave now. My sister is looking for me.” Kenjiro lifts his phone to drive his point, not that he thinks Ushijima would actually stop him from leaving.

“Ah.” Ushijima looks down for a second, then he looks at Kenjiro head-on and extends his hand over the table. “It was nice to meet you, Kenjiro Shirabu.”

Kenjiro stares at the offered hand for a beat, clasping it with his own before his brain processes how awkward it is. “Likewise. Have a good day, Ushijima.” He stands and takes his tray with him, depositing it by the condiments stand.

The queue has been exhausted over at the counter, the cashier is smiling absently, watching over the customers. One of their two baristas is gone, leaving Eita who is organizing syrups and toppings along his work station.

Kenjiro walks up to the service counter and says, “Hey, you.”

Eita looks up, raising a brow.

Kenjiro puts a fist on the table, leaving the borrowed pen and a crumpled tissue paper. He sends Eita one last glare before turning around and walking right out the store. He almost collides with another guy who’s heading in, causing both of them to stumble on the steps. Kenjiro apologizes distractedly and resumes stalking away, mentally berating himself for what he’d just done. _Stupid stupid stupid!_

 

“Tsutomuu~”

Even if he did see Satori coming, Tsutomu couldn’t have avoided the man’s greeting kiss if he tried. And though, he would never admit to it when asked, Tsutomu has rather warmed up to the gesture. He allows the kiss and tries not to think of how doomed he is that he now associates the taste and smell of peppermint with it.

Satori skips over to the drinks station, no doubt to lay one on Eita. His cheerful voice asks, “What’ve you got there, Semisemi?” And in true Satori fashion, he pries into whatever it is and answers the question himself. “Oh man, whose number is that?”

“None of your -- mph!” And there, Satori fulfills his initial purpose. Eita can be heard cursing under his breath.

“Semisemi’s got a date tonight~!” Satori announces to practically the entire café.

“Shut up, you’re late!” Eita grouses. “Get changed, already!”

“I will, I will~”

Tsutomu can only smile at their antics. Satori is peering through the pastry display from behind the counter, ooh-ing and nodding as though approving of their offered selection. Then he stops. Like a glitchy video game character, Satori just freezes, half-bent over and staring at something beyond the glass case. From his periphery, Tsutomu notices that the scary guy who doesn’t drink coffee is on his feet. Oh yeah. He was looking for Satori earlier, wasn’t he?

 

Ushijima approaches the counter, getting Satori to straighten up, the various charms and knickknacks on his ita-bag clinking together. “What… Wakatoshi…?” He scurrious out from behind the counter, finally meeting Ushijima face to face off to the side. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t give me an answer,” Ushijima replies, concern wrinkling his brows. “Reon told me I would be able to find you here.”

Satori swallows. “Reon did..?”

“I couldn’t contact you for the last two days.”

“Well, y’know… been busy with the holidays and all… I’ve been working, too.”

“I understand,” Ushijima says, all solemn. “And I apologize if this - my being here - might appear as though I’m ambushing you.”

Wide eyes jump away, not wanting Ushijima to read the immense guilt that has filled them. Satori finds Tsutomu and Eita gawking at him. Shit. How long has Ushijima been here? And _how_ could he have not seen him? Someone like Ushijima is hard to miss. It was stupid to think that he could avoid him in the first place. “It’s alright, Toshi~” Satori tries to sound cheerful (he even uses his personal nickname for him) but misses the mark by a long mile. He is sincere, though, when he says “I’m sorry, too, I guess I forgot to reply to your messages.”

Ushijima nods to show he accepts it. “Then can I ask for your answer now?”

“Uh…”

“Would you like to visit the shrine with me today, Satori?”

 

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Tsutomu jumps at the hissed whisper from behind him. Eita is suddenly there, both of them apparently transfixed with the scene. “Tall guy came in around two hours ago looking for Satori,” Tsutomu shares. “Do you know him?”

“Nope,” Eita answers with a frown. “He’s making Satori all uncomfortable, though. I should step in.”

“Wait.” Tsutomu holds his ground, not letting the older guy pass. The force of Eita’s disapproval bores down on him but Tsutomu refuses to budge.

Satori’s all tongue-tied and fidgety, the high color on his cheeks nearly matches his vibrant hair. A shifty Satori isn’t an unusual sight, it would be more concerning if Satori actually behaved for once, but there’s something in the way he’s acting that brings out that nagging voice in Tsutomu’s head.

Oddly enough, the voice sounds like Satori himself, telling Tsutomu _'You’ll understand when you’re older.'_

 

“I’ve got work.” Satori worries his bottom lip, wandering eyes sneaking off to the side. “And I’m kind of late as it is. Heh.”

Properly chastised, Ushijima steps back upon realizing that they were being watched. “I can drop by again later when you get off work,” he offers.

“You can just go by yourself, y’know.” Satori wrings his hands behind his back.

The corners of Ushijima’s lips dip into a frown that almost resembles a pout. “But I want to go with you.”

Satori inhales sharply. If this was a comic, he’s sure that there would be an arrow spearing his heart out of his chest right now. “Okay,” Satori finds himself saying. ”Be back by eight.”

“Eight,” Ushijima repeats, eyes aglow with relief. “I’ll be here.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

 

Satori is noticeably less chatty once Ushijima leaves. Eita makes it his personal mission to get answers out of him about his mysterious visitor but Satori remains mum. That or he breaks out a mysterious grin and singsongs ‘ _It’s a secret~_ ’ which annoys Eita even more than his silence.

The afternoon fades into an indigo evening, bringing a final wave of customers into their shop. Snowflakes drift lazily outside, laying a fresh blanket of pure white on the pavement. At eight o’clock on the dot, Satori receives a text.

**> I am waiting for you outside.**

It’s vaguely threatening, making Satori’s insides reactively churn but in a good way. He finishes wiping down the last of the tables, propping the chairs against the top at an angle, tucking them in for the day. Eita is already changing in the locker rooms, Goshiki and Akakura left together five minutes ago. Satori makes his way to the front door, opening it to find Ushijima standing like a security guard on the porch.

“Heya.”

Ushijima’s stoic expression warms. “Are you ready to go?”

“In a minute,” Satori says. “Need to change out of my uniform first. You can wait inside.”

“This is fine.”

“I know you’re a human heater, Toshi, but I don’t want you getting cold, anyway. Come.” Satori extends his hand, smiling when Ushijima takes it and pulling him in. The CLOSED sign flutters as the door settles back into place. They’re enveloped in silence.

Ushijima’s grip is uncharacteristically slack, his eyes never leaving Satori’s face.

“What?” Satori deems to ask.

“I was afraid I’ve made you angry,” he answers blunt as ever.

“Well, I _was_ a bit mad _before_ , but I realized--”

 

“Are you done locking up here, Satori? I’m gonna go… ahead.” Eita stops midway through pulling on his jacket, his eyes sliding between the two men. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hello,” the burly guy greets him in response.

“Gah! Don’t leave yet, Semisemi!” Satori scurries over, pulling the rest of the jacket properly onto Semi, even fixing up his collar. “You play nice with Toshi for a bit!” Whipping around, Satori continues, “Toshi~ I’ll just go change, okay? I’ll be quick.”

“Okay.”

Satori lingers for a second more, smiling, then he runs for the locker room.

Eita is left to stare at this… ‘Toshi’ person. “Semi Eita,” he extends a hand.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

Eita frowns, he thinks he’s heard that name before. More than that, Ushijima’s got a damn strong grip.

“I'm sorry for intruding in your shop,” Ushijima says. “It was my last resort to get ahold of Satori.”

“Oh? You a friend of Satori’s?”

“Yes.”

“ _Just_ a friend?” Now is Eita’s chance to get answers. Ushijima blinks at him, going silent as if he’s considering the question. Good. Eita tries not to smile too wide, anticipating.

Finally, Ushijima says, “We were in the gardening club in high school.”

“Gardening…” Eita repeats the word but it still doesn’t make sense. “Do they seriously have that in your school?”

“Yes,” Ushijima replies. “It was where we met. Satori can draw plants really well.”

“Right…” Eita admits to being a little disappointed. Satori was being so damn secretive and it turns out they were just gardening fans. Still, there’s one more detail he has to work out. “So why was Satori mad at you?” Ushijima pins him in place, staring hard. “Sorry,” Eita shrugs. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Satori’s my friend, too, you know, so maybe I can help you win him over. Or something.” Eita has no idea what he’s saying.

“I told him… that I got an offer to play pro volleyball…” Ushijima reveals and Eita thinks ‘ _Oh. So he’s a bigshot_.’ Then Ushijima adds, “In Italy.” and Eita’s smile freezes in place.

 _Did he just say Italy?! Like the country, Italy?_ _Seriously, who the hell is this guy?_

“He got mad when I told him I was considering it.” Ushijima looks down at his feet.

“Just give him time,” Eita finds himself saying. He did promise some sort of advice and that’s the best he’s got. “Satori gets ahead of himself sometimes… I’m sure you two will work it out.”

“I hope so,” Ushijima agrees, straightening up. “Thank you, Semi Eita.”

“Semi is fine,” Eita says, shivers running down his spine at the use of his full name in that voice.

“Very well. Thank you, Semi.”

“Ah~ You’ve made friends, Toshi?” Satori bounds towards them, bundled up in a long puffy coat, his backpack clinking with its many many acrylic charms.

Ushijima smiles at seeing him. “I believe so.”

“Good work~” Satori stops in front of Ushijima, putting a hand on his shoulder in congratulations. “Shall we go?”

“Don’t stay out too late,” Eita says as they make their way to the door. “I don’t want you coming in tardy again tomorrow.”

“Yessir!” Satori salutes. “See you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eita waves him off, digging out the keys from his pocket to lock their front door. He’s already calculating the quickest route to Hayato’s so he can drop off the keys when there’s a tap on his shoulder. He looks back and Satori is there, grinning.

“I almost forgot your goodbye kiss!” Satori leans in quick, his lips already cold. “Thanks for your hard work, today, Semisemi~”

Eita gets caught up as Satori pulls away. He finds Ushijima waiting on the streetside in plain view and Eita thinks, _Shit, he saw that_ . Ushijima doesn’t look the type to _assume things_ but one can never be too careful. Eita opens his mouth to shout, well, something to explain what just happened but a closer look shows that Ushijima isn’t even looking at him.

“Thanks for waiting~” Satori calls, swinging his hands freely until one of them gets caught.

Ushijima leads Satori closer by the hand, until they’re comfortably standing side by side. He ducks his head a little, muffling his voice but Eita catches the word ‘dinner’ and Satori starts nodding enthusiastically. Satori steps just a little closer to Ushijima as they start walking again, the wind carrying his excited chatter.

Eita watches them go, hoping for the best.


End file.
